The Ministerial Touch
by Princess-Panda-Pheles
Summary: Harry sends his memories back in time to save the person he loved the most, and steadily alter the relationship between godson and godfather, even at the cost of his dignity, and sucking up to Minister Fudge to do it. For the first time in years, hope shines through the prison of Azkaban, and Sirius Black receives a letter. {Sirry HPSB HPxSirius Black Slash/M for darker themes}
1. Letters from Home

**The Ministerial Touch**

_Very AUish. Sirry Slash HPSB (Yeah, Sirius/Harry is all I seem to ship these days) M for dark content and probably sex stuff if kind reviewers want me to continue._

_FULL SUMMARY:- Harry Potter sends his memories back in time, he doesn't go to save the future, or the world at large, no, he's gone back to save his godfather and give him the life he should have had after rotting in Azkaban. A silver stag Patronus bursts through the halls of the prison as Prongs rides again, and Sirius Black feels hope for the first time in twelve years when his godson and the Minister of Magic in tow arrive in a spray of silver light._

_He'll never forget how Harry leaned down, with warm green eyes and long black hair, holding out his hand past all the filth of his tiny cell, blocking the view of dingy brick walls he'd been staring at for so very long, counting the cracks, uttering the most soothing words he'd heard in decades._

_"It's time to come home, Padfoot,"_

_Nonbastard!Fudge._

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling**

* * *

**Letters from Home**

It all started when Harry Potter collapsed out of his bedroom and clutched his head, screaming bloody murder into the skies and rumbling every Dursley awake, ready to thunder down to the smallest bedroom and begin screaming at him, except, when Petunia and Vernon got there, they saw their nephew hitting the floor erratically – a steady pool of crimson leaking from his left ear.

It frightened them, to say the least, but receiving half the memories of a grizzled war veteran that you're destined to become was hardly going to be a walk through the park.

And then plans set in motion, to change on man's fate that would in turn, perhaps change the entire outcome of the war, or at the very least, Harry Potter's future.

….It all started with stealing his friend's pet rat, and putting him in a tight, spelled cage, before the Weasleys were destined to win a galleon prize-draw, and use it on a trip to Egypt to spend time with their eldest son, Bill.

"Scabbers will probably sweat horribly in the Egyptian heat, if you want, you can send him over to me and I'll take care of him, he already looks old and sick, can rats even die of heat stroke?" Harry had grimaced, and a few sharp vindictive pokes to the squeaking vermin was enough to persuade Ron to hand him over.

"I don't want to worry about him all holiday either, he's always scurrying off to fall asleep in a corner somewhere but knowing Scabbers he'd probably activate a curse or sleep right in a snake pit," snorted Ron, handing him over.

And so, Scabbers never made the perfect Weasley picture that graced the Daily Prophet shortly, and was left uncomfortably in a spelled shut cage, where Hedwig glared from her perch and occasionally tried to nip the creature through the bars of her own dwelling.

"It's okay little rat," he cooed a false sort of smile at the vermin, carefulling not to let on that he knew who he really was.

The next stage of the plan, happened all on its own.

"BOY, get down here _now!" _Vernon's yelling the next day heralded something unforgettable, and with knowledge of how it was going to play out, Harry couldn't help a sadistic grin cross his face, letting the agitation overcome him gladly.

"-_and you act respectful to your Aunt Marge, understood? None of that __**freakishness **__we dealt with yesterday or it'll be more than just your ears bleeding Boy, understood?!"_

"Yes sir," he smiled, and for once, Vernon was rather wary, and bit down the urge to smack it clean off his nephew's face.

The subsequent visit went exactly as expected, with no deviation from the script, and Aunt Marge thoroughly enjoying insulting Harry's parents – even with the memories he had, it was so difficult not to be vexed by her words and find them just as insulting as before, letting loose on his inner magic had never felt so damn _satisfying._

Predictably, she blew up, physically and verbally, only the table decided to react to the boy's expanding magic and decided to float itself upward before flipping over entirely, and at that point, the very foundations of Number 4 began to vibrate and shake, as though an earthquake occurred.

At that moment, Harry knew everything changed, things were already deviating from the timeline he knew, grabbing both Scabbers and Hedwig's cages, he took his pre-packed trunk and fled to the Knight Bus towards The Leaky Cauldron to go on the 'run' as it where, and only hoped his preventing of Sirius Black's escape meant that Fudge still had a vested interest in intercepting Harry when he arrived at the pub.

Luckily, he did.

"Nonsense my boy, if everyone got sent to Azkaban and their wand snapped for blowing up their Aunt, why we'd have no wizards left at all," he chuckled heartily, and Harry forced a smile and the wateriest stare he could muster, before reaching under his large glasses with the back of his hand to wipe his crocodile tears in the most exaggeratedly childish manner he could muster.

"Thank you," he gave a soft hiccup for the record "-I didn't expect it to be like this. I thought I'd be in trouble for s-sure…"

"Well, we had to send a few Obliviators, but it'll be all fixed, right as rain, and your muggle relatives good as new," Minister Fudge gave Harry an attempt at a wink.

"No need to be upset dear lad," oh good lord the man was almost _cooing, _though he wouldn't have turned up if he wasn't interested in having Harry in his debt, he hoped at least a bit of that was genuine, and played on his small scrawny size as best he could. The man had a bloody huge ego, and it was his greatest flaw, ripe for exploit.

"Sorry I'm just…s-so overwhelmed, I mean I thought I'd be on a one-way ticket to having my wand snapped but instead I get to meet the most powerful man in all of Britain," said Harry in his shyest voice, inwardly gagging as he looked up at Fudge through his lashes and tried to downplay his size and age.

Minister Fudge went bright red, and started prattling on about their newly found allegiance, their friendship within the public eye and a possible internship with him if he played his cards right, Harry almost wanted to be ill at the thought, but schooled his features into a bright smile with eager nods where appropriate.

"Could you put up a privacy charm? I need to um… I need to ask you something," said Harry, putting on his best blushing boy act, the Minister looked at him oddly, and proceeded to wave a _Muffliato _charm over their small table, after ordering both himself and Harry two rather nice warm dinners, courtesy of the bartender.

* * *

"_Sirius Black? _Sirius _Black?!" _

Yes.

"But don't you know what he—"

What _Wormtail _did.

"My boy I was there…"

_You misunderstood, you silly little man._

Harry held his tongue, his eyes watering.

"I just have to know, and if he can't send anything back, I at least want him to know what he _did _– and that just because my parents are dead doesn't mean he gets to weasel out of punishment, it might be….therapeutic, for me, at least, no one has to know, and I'd be in your debt,"

"Well…. I suppose there's no real harm in it, alright. I'll just write it here - this is the address you'd write too since the island is unplottable, and I'll put forward some papers to have your contact expected to make sure they get through without trouble. Anything I can do, after all, your parent's fate was so _tragic…_" Minister Fudge then went on his own prattle, until he actually said something of interest.

"You know, James was one the Ministry's best aurors,"

And surprisingly, had his own tales to tell, even if it was just hearsay from when he worked a different department, painting an amazing image of Auror Potter, cutting through dark wizards like a hot knife through butter, and had his life not been so tragically cut short, he was a shoe-in for the Department of Hitwizards.

From all the people in the world, Harry never quite expected to learn about his father as an adult from Minister Fudge, and despite himself, one his smiles that evening wasn't a faked one.

And so Harry spent the rest of his summer at the Leaky Cauldron, with the address to where letters were collected by the Ministry, checked for charms, and then sent on a little dingy of a boat with two aurors, to the island of Azkaban.

* * *

Sirius Black was perhaps the sanest man in Azkaban, which, considering those who knew him in his prime, was really saying something. Dementors were the only guards of the island, and the only humans that came were those delivering prisoners in or out of the facility, with the occasional letter.

Sirius Black never had any letters, but that was hardly surprising, all of his friends were dead, traitors, or thought him a murderer.

So, when a human auror came, with face like ash and sin – as whatever few visitors that came to the prison did, and boy, he could count them on one hand, because nobody wanted to be there, Sirius was surprised, because almost nobody stopped by his cell.

"Letter," the man grunted, sliding it through the bars and leaving just as quickly as he came.

The haggard man was tired with long, dirty, matted curls that had dried from years of lack of care, if he was lucky, the rare auror visitor might take pity or perhaps be too aghast at the smell from every cell not to cast a _scourgify _as they walked past, but Merlin it had been a while.

Who on Earth would send him a letter, anyway? It had been so many years since he'd thought of anyone on the outside, all it did was hurt him, but maybe it was Remus? Good old Moony? No, any hope of him coming to his senses disappeared after his first year in that damned place without a single letter, unless something changed.

Any of his other living relatives were in their own damn cells a few blocks down, so it wouldn't be them, and he'd sell his left nut if it was Narcissa, who never cared for him even when he wasn't in prison.

After staring at the crack in the wall which he'd come to name 'Jim' affectionately after being crammed in there so long, even transforming into _Padfoot _did little except stave the inevitable – growing insanity, loneliness, hopelessness. My, he was sure he wouldn't make it another twelve years before he joined the small headstones in the island's graveyards for those who died of despair.

His shaking hands gripped the letter, after drinking the warm and frankly disgusting water that the prisoners were given by way of food that was enchanted to appear within their cells at an allotted time along with two loafs of stale bread and a small tub of butter on good days, on _really _good days, it might even be jam. Sirius suspected that the person responsible for that was probably the newer rookie auror who did the island rounds once every few months. Merlin bless that man.

Rubbing his eyes, his dirty fingernails slit through the paper with an animal ferocity, the wax seal hadn't even denoted who might have sent it – possessing no family crest or formal mark.

"_Dear Sirius Black._

_I had to pull a lot of strings to get the privilege to write to you, so I hope it doesn't go unappreciated and you actually open it. I know you can't write back, so I can only pray that these letters will find you safe._

_I don't know you, and you don't know me – not properly, anyway. You knew me once though. A very long time ago. When I was a baby._

_My name is Harry James Potter. I've included a couple of pictures in the letter – I know I can't send much beyond a few papers, I don't even know if my Boy-Who-Lived status can wrangle the powers-that-be to let me send you books, but if I can, I will._

_I know you're itching to write back – to tell me you're innocent. I've heard what the public knew, I even heard from Fudge who saw you that night on Halloween – when confronting Peter Pettigrew._

_I should tell you, though._

_I __know._

_I know you're innocent, it's hard to tell you how, so I'll have to give you the simplest reason I can muster – I can read people. I can also read people who aren't people, and I can definitely tell when a rat isn't a rat._

_I did some working out from there, some investigation. I don't want to overwhelm you, but I want to set your demons to rest. Some of them, anyway._

_Yes, the __**rat, **__is alive, and I also have him in captivity without him necessarily knowing he's been caught, so all is well. Don't worry about my safety, it's him that should have to worry about being safe from __**me, **__but I'm not going to do anything rash. Not until I can get him safely in the hands of the authorities who won't sweep this under the rug. I refuse to let you rot in Azkaban for another twelve years. It's all in hand. I'll be spending this year getting around Minister Fudge, failing that, I'll go through Albus Dumbledore and Amelia Bones if I have to, and tear through the Wizengamot with my own teeth if I must._

_You're the only real family I've got left. You're my godfather – and that isn't revoked just because you're behind bars. Family don't leave family behind. I will come for you. _

_Just stay sane for me._

_With love, your godson,_

_Harry James Potter,"_

The pictures fell out of the envelope as Sirius gripped them, holding them up to the sparse light so he could see a boy with bright green eyes and a pigsty of hair – the splitting image of James Potter, grinning wildly at him, holding a Nimbus 2000 and looking far too small for his age, holding onto a redheaded boy who was about the right height. 'First Year' was crawled on the back of it, and upon closer inspection, he could make out the familiar red and gold tucked of the tucked-in ties on the small polaroid's.

His breathing hitched at the sight, fingers delicately stroking the mass of hair on the photograph that Harry had gone to the trouble of sucking up to Colin Creevey for, in fact, never had he been so glad for the boy's fanboyism as he was right then, getting every shot the kid possessed and paying for the right, swallowing his pride and annoyance so he'd have things to send his godfather.

Not for the first time, a man cried in Azkaban.

But, this time, unlike the others, it was tears not drawn from sadness or immeasurable despair, it was happiness.

He almost didn't believe it, thinking it a sick joke – but there was too many references to very secret things like Peter's rat animagus form that nobody else sans Moony knew about who were still alive.

Sirius took the second picture that fell – on the back, '_Second Year' _was scrawled on it, with Harry looking much the same, except there was a bushy haired girl with them and he had to figure that was Harry's close knit of friends, they looked it, just from how their animated forms interacted on the photo.

And finally, the third, with Harry's hair growing out, looking less like James, but still with hideous scotch-taped bottle-glasses and a bright smile with glittering green eyes.

It was the first time Sirius had seen a smile in so long, that he slept with it under his tiny, hard pillow.

The next letter came no less than two weeks later, it seemed every run the aurors did, Harry was taking an opportunity to write, and marked a schedule where he'd never, ever miss a day.

Opening it eagerly, he shifted out of dog form and began tearing through the envelope almost hungrily, before holding it to the light and frowning a bit as a crinkly paper slipped out that was folded into four squares, but read the letter first.

It was much, much longer – thankfully.

"_Dear Sirius Black,_

_I have it on good authority and definitely not bribes that you opened the last letter. Good. I plan to make a habit of writing to you."_

Sirius raised a brow at that, his teenaged godson was bribing Ministry officials and bending rules left, right and centre to get information on a prisoner in Azkaban and write to them with Pavolvian frequency? Well, that was rule breaking not even James could really top.

"_I can't imagine there's much to do in there, so I'll do my best to fill you in on the world outside, help you pass the time a bit. I guess I should tell you a bit about myself, huh? There's some things you won't even believe until you see me face to face (and that day WILL come) – but I can still tell you a bit about me._

_I got into Gryffindor, but you could probably tell from the photos I sent last. I'm best friends with Ron Weasley and a muggleborn called Hermione Granger, though they don't know I'm writing to you. They're sort of wrapped up in arguing with each other but I'm pretty sure it's just because they fancy each other and I don't feel like playing middleman. Best leave them to it,"_

Sirius couldn't help but snort, he didn't think he'd feel amusement in that cell, but it left as quick as it came.

"_The first year we had a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who was possessed by Voldemort's wandering spirit. I ended up channelling some sort of magic – accidental or not – I've no idea, maybe it's what helped me survived that Halloween, but I burned him just touching him and ended up toasting a man to death at the tender age of eleven. His name was Quirinus Quirrell. Dumbledore says the act of Voldemort leaving his body was what ended him, but I'm more inclined to think it was my burning hands of complete fury not allowing him to breathe as he screamed at me to get off. I should probably be in a cell next to you, but I suppose they're more lenient against first years who face Voldemort."_

Sirius sucked in a sharp breathe, before muttering "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Circe and Agrippa," and ploughing on with the letter.

"_So, I'm the boy-who-lived-to-piss-off-dark-lords-repeatedly I guess. Uhm…what else.. I like chocolate frogs..? OH! I also play Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I got on in first year, youngest seeker in a century and never lost a match. I don't like to brag but its bloody hard work spotting that tiny golden ball of irritation so I'll bloody well be proud of it._

_The second year I had, well, Voldemort infiltrated again and I'm starting to think Hogwarts really isn't that safe, the school almost shut, but it didn't. Not much happened this year so far, but I won't hold my breath. Hogwarts isn't Hogwarts without me nearly dying somehow. _

_Um….what else… I live with my muggle relatives so every time I go back I'm always dying to get back to magic but I'm always constantly in danger, which is honestly just bloody annoying at this point._

_Living with Aunt Petunia is sort of unbearable, I can't tell you how many times I've wished for a relative to take me away in the night, I'm sorry it couldn't be you, but I forgive you. You were blinded by rage towards a friend-turned-traitor. I don't know what I'd have done if Ron did that to me. I forgive you for that._

_When you get out, I'd love to live with you –you'll pardon me for jumping to that, right? I've never had a real home before Hogwarts before, not even with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon is a fat terrible man who works for a drill company – which is muggle building technology, if you're wondering. Yes, it's as boring as it sounds, but this man quite literally disproves of imagination. I'm not kidding. I wasn't allowed fiction books in the household or to be caught reading them even if they were assigned reading in school before Hogwarts._

_Aunt Petunia is awful, she hates mum even to this day for being a witch, they think magic is unnatural and freaky, and by extension – think the same of me._

_My cousin Dudley is like a Vernon Version 2, rather like a pig in a wig, but I could fill a novel with how much the Dursleys despise me, heck, if they knew how many times I had the opportunity to get myself killed and didn't – they'd be disappointed._

_See? You really are my only real family. Family that I care about, anyway._

_I was so unworthy of them and their 'normalness' that my room for eleven years was the cupboard under the stairs, my Hogwarts letter was even addressed to it. They didn't like to give me clothes, or toys or food, I guess it's sort of like your cell, huh? Only, I got let out, even if it was just for housework. But, I used to squirrel away toys Dudley forgot about, and one day, I stole his crayons. I was very little. He broke most of them but I could work the nubs. You know what I used to dream of when I was little? A flying motorcycle, I thought it was just a dream, but now I know better. It was real. You lent it to Hagrid so he could fly me away from the wreckage. _

_I used to dream a long-lost relative would come for me, flying on it. _

_I knew it was silly though, and Uncle Vernon would flay me if he caught me imagining things that were magical, or imagining at all really. But I drew it anyway, because it filled me with hope. Happiness. I kept it pinned to the door in my cupboard under the stairs, and I'd look at it when I was sad. It filled me with a silly kind of happiness and hope but now I know you're alive and reading these letters, and that hope is real._

_You gave me my first happy memory that got me through many nights in my cupboard under the stairs._

_I hope this can do the same for you. _

_Love, your godson,_

_Harry James Potter,"_

Sirius unfolded the enclosed, aged paper, and felt his eyes go suspiciously warm like he could cry, as he gripped a childish drawing of a night sky filled with stars and flying motorcycle, with magical sparkles in yellow stars over a blue and black sky following it. He could tell that the paper had been folded many times to be hidden, and was very old, as much as the letter suggested.

Using the crack in the wall, he mounted the picture as best he could between jutting bricks that weren't laid as smoothly as they could, serving as a frame so that he could always see it whenever he awoke.

For the first time, apathy broke, and Sirius Black felt _fury._

Fury towards the residents of Number 4 Privet Drive – those damned Dursleys.

He would stay sane, as Harry's first letter begged, if only to take him from that horrible place.

'_Someday' _he thought, as he stared at that childlike drawing that Harry had obviously treasured. '_We'll fly together on that old motorcycle, just like you dreamed about,'_

At the end of each month, Harry would take a bunch of Daily Prophets he collected and snip out what he dubbed as important or worldly, interesting news, and crosswords, sudokus and rune puzzles with a muggle pen he could slip through the radar where he didn't need an inkpot and quill to do them. Harry condensed the news and would even include the Quidditch updates from the Nihongo Dragons to the Chudley Cannons and his own private preference, Puddlemere United – just to fill Sirius's time and let him try to get a grasp on what the outside world was like while he was gone.

Soon, his cell became steadily decorated with sheets of papers and letters, photos and news clippings.

Finally, on Valentine's Day – not that he knew it, if not for the date Harry always took care to mark on the top of each letter so he could better grasp the passage of time, inside was some coloured paper, with a funny look, he pulled it out, before letting out a dry cough as he attempted to laugh. He got a valentine _behind_ _bars._

Inside was a green piece of paper and red paper, and with much bribing, Harry had managed to get it into Azkaban.

Sirius skidded back in his cell, startled, watching the charmed paper fold itself – the green folded itself over and over again until it formed a long straw-like skinny form and a triangle out of its side, and then the red paper began folding itself infinitely and complicatedly, before sticking itself atop the green stem.

It formed a paper rose – Harry knew there were limits on to what he could send to the prison, but he knew paper was always allowed, and worked around it, to send him precious origami, folded and charmed himself.

"_Dear Sirius Black,_

_Happy Valentine's Day! I'd send you chocolate but I couldn't quite get that through, so instead I included some origami instead and some more puzzles and stuff. I can't exactly send a book but there's no limit on paper, funnily enough. The only thing that makes a book a book is the binding, so you might get a particularly thick letter soon. It'll be the Guide to Decorating a House by Renée Ducase._

_Well, I found out your assets have been frozen, not liquidated, and when you get released, you will receive your childhood home, and I've heard nothing good about it from my house elf, so perhaps you could put some thought to how you'd decorate it._

_Because I've only gone and gotten you a trial, at the cost of having to publically support Minister Fudge and take a Wizengamot seat, I spent the better part of the year ousting Lucius Malfoy and having to take his place as primary financial supporter and advisor. I managed to get him a written contract from Dumbledore that promises him he won't be after his position as Minister – he's so thankful that he's willing to do anything. Mind you, we're running a smear campaign on Barty Crouch since your lack of trial was under __**his **__administration and using it as a selling point._

_Basically. If any aurors visit you over the next few months, swallow your pride and sing Minister Fudge's praises for a bit. You've got yourself some powerful friends and allies, Sirius. I'm working my fingers to the bone behind the curtains as much as a teenager can, but I need you to cooperate. _

_I said I'd be coming for you soon._

_Your loving godson,_

_Harry James Potter,"_

Sirius grinned, shifting into Padfoot, filling Azkaban with the sounds of a victorious howl.

* * *

A considerable amount of time passed, before Sirius Black began to worry, but relief filled him, as another letter came. Harry himself was infuriated by the fact the memories seem to trickle in one by one, slowing as a mental defence from being overwhelmed to a point of his ears bleeding or turning his mind to complete mush, it deprived him of what could have been prevented, or better approached, as he found himself unable to get rid of the mental block, preventing and shielding him from the worst of his memories, that all began with the Goblet of Fire.

"_Dear Sirius Black,_

_Your trial is going ahead, Pettigrew has been handed over, remember how I said it wouldn't be Hogwarts if someone didn't try to kill me? Well, I've been put in the Tri-Wizard cup. It's being held at Hogwarts and a former Death Eater cast a powerful confundus charm on the cup to make it think another school as entered. Someone who wants me dead has entered me as the fourth champion for this school that doesn't exist, and I'm compelled to compete under a binding contract._

_Fuck._

_I'll be able to get out of school to come get you ghosted to St Mungo's to recover until your trial but you won't see me again after that until this farce is over. I'm sorry._

_I hope you're still keeping sane for me. I care about you._

_Your loving godson,_

_Harry James Potter."_

* * *

**TBC**

**R&amp;R**


	2. Home is Where the Harry is

M for Slash, Sexual and Dark Themes.

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling.

* * *

**{Home is Where the Harry is}**

It was incredibly frustrating, like looking through opaque, blurred, bathroom window glass, hearing noises slip through the drafty crack of the panes, faintly. He remembered receiving the memories of how things would have been – a confrontation in the Shrieking Shack, dementors out of Azkaban from an ill-advised Minister Fudge attempting to protect the students, Sirius's escape – all things that should have come to pass but did not in favour of the man staying in Azkaban another year and keeping correspondence with Harry. He could almost feel his balled up fist pounding angrily at the glass, trying to shatter it, before his fingers slipped under the lower rim and tried with all his might to lift it, barely getting it to budge as a colourful flash of blurred images played behind it. It was dark, and occasionally lit up with green light.

'_Dragons…the first task is dragons…!'_

'_Under water, put the egg under water.'_

A few memories slipped out, one of him sitting in the prefect's bath with a golden egg, and dodging searing flames in the skies from a Hungarian Horntail.

'_Rescue what you love and miss the most.'_

The uncomfortable sensation of water surrounding him was almost suffocating, but he still couldn't lift the window – the veil behind him, and what was perhaps the start of the worst of his memories.

"_Let me in!"_ he wanted to scream, but found his senses overwhelmed, like he was gargling on the water from the Second Task that he'd manage to liberate through the small amount of leeway he'd budged the mental shield.

Finally, _something _slipped through.

"…_ Kill the spare.__"_

A snakelike hiss followed, and misery washed over him, before the window slammed down on his fingers, refusing to budge, and a set of bright green eyes darted open, a piercing scream filling the night.

At least he was partially prepared, but a huge piece of him felt like it was missing, and he was terrified of whatever the Third Task might prove to be. His entire body trembled and shook, and Harry let out a long sigh before wrapping them around himself, breathing in and out rhythmically as he tried to soothe his wildly beating heart, before glancing at his battered wristwatch.

He had to _try _and sleep, if only to look his best when he met Minister Fudge and went to collect the most important person in his life.

* * *

"I thought they were cleared to guard their upper levels while we were here, didn't you _know _Harry Potter would be accompanying me?!" Fudge snapped, it was strange, watching the tubby man whom he had memories of despising, acting like a bird with all of his feathers ruffled on _Harry's behalf._

"It's f-ine…"

Fudge's eyebrows drew forward to a scowl, taking in Harry's appearance, though he was a pale boy by nature and Fudge wasn't the most observant man, he could see the healthy pallor had drained utterly, and whenever they halted, Harry's knee would invert against the other, putting up an unsure and frankly unconfident stance as he palmed his scar, trying to cover up his discomfort.

"Nonsense, look at the state of you, no no, I'll have that auror by his bootstraps," Fudge tittered, scowling and feeling the cold breeze of dementor influence even through his thick mink coat, though Harry was shivering much more outright, as though they wanted to be nearer to him. It was disconcerting to Fudge, really. The dementors only followed orders due to a magically binding contract with their entire species, it was hard to communicate with anything so mindless and unrepentantly disgusting.

They belonged in nightmares, but at least in Azkaban, they served a purpose, and the horrible history of the island of which the island was built on, was so thoroughly entrenched in darkness and the unspeakable acts of the dark wizard that once inhabited it, that the dementors felt a good binding to that place. A place with so much sorrow before their presence ever gathered there, but they seemed to be affecting the young wizard much more than Fudge himself.

"It's okay…" he breathed, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand as a dementor a floor above them breezed over where Harry was standing one level below – he actively shuddered, making Fudge look at him more closely.

"I don't…think I respond well to dementors…" he said, bits of memories with them coming to mind again as he felt his heart plummeting into his feet and warmth behind his eyes, like he could cry.

"Of course not, not many do, but they're a little further away – aren't you…? Oh my… don't faint," said Fudge, looking at Harry warily as he grabbed onto Auror Shacklebolt's arm, and surprised everyone by withdrawing his wand from his sleeve.

"Warming charms do no good around those dementors, boy. Best just to put that away," grunted Shacklebolt, unphased by Harry grabbing onto him and offering himself to better support him when he saw what Harry was trying to do.

"E—E…E…" he made noises between his teeth chattering from the sheer unending cold of Azkaban, tensing around the auror's arm.

"What're you trying to do lad? I'm sure myself or Auror Shacklebolt can…you look ready to drop…" Fudge was looking at the wand warily, but Harry was aimed dead ahead, not looking at any of them.

"_Expecto Patronum..!"_

Auror Shacklebolt tensed up, and Fudge was bowled back as something silvery wisped from the wand, congealing and taking form in the air until it was completely solidified, and a hoofing animal thudded on the grounds of the prison, before charging through the corridor at the dementor breezing past the end of it with its head bowed – ready to skewer the enemy on it's antlers.

It was a stag, a pure, silver, corporeal patronus _stag._

"Was that a corporeal patronus?" Auror Shacklebolt was impressed, looking down at Harry who was letting go of using him as a support to move along with Fudge.

"My word, where did you learn that? Are they teaching you this at Hogwarts? Half of the DMLE's aurors can't produce a corporeal one," Fudge was, for once, awed and felt rightfully small against the magic dwelling in the youngest person there, and though Shacklebolt had a vague sense of it, he had no idea of the true breadth of power that they were dealing with until right then.

"I taught myself, Defence Against the Dark Arts is my best subject, but then again, I don't think that surprises anyone here," said Harry dryly, feeling bad for having to lie about Lupin's involvement, but in this world, he already remembered how to cast it, and as Sirius hadn't broken out and Fudge hadn't sent dementors to Hogwarts, there was no need for Lupin to teach it to him while he'd been there, and instead the two merely chatted back and forth about Harry's parents, and focused extracurricular training on other things.

"Well, you _are _the Boy-Who-Lived, I suppose such things really shouldn't surprise me," Minister Fudge chortled, as though Baby Harry could have burped a patronus in Voldemort's general direction, but Harry didn't say anything to the contrary, and walked forward alongside Fudge, behind Shacklebolt.

"Here's over there,"

* * *

Sirius had carefully put his things away, he wasn't sure when anyone would come for him but he wanted personal things – really personal things, like the paper rose and Harry's pictures to be put out the direct line of sight under his pillow, just in case the aurors had any funny ideas about his lack of innocence and felt the need to take some of the precious things that were keeping him sane, away.

It was paranoia, really, that was leading to him squirreling that stuff under his pillow, but he kept the crinkled drawing up all the same, because it almost made him smile a few times.

Then, he saw something silvery, ethereal – a spirit, perhaps? It took a form, a very real form, it was a stag, and it seemed to drive the misery away, at first, he thought he was hallucinating – maybe he really had cracked, after all? But the cold of the dementor presence seemed to dim, and suddenly, a memory clicked.

"_Prongs…?"_ he whispered in abject confusion, shaking his head repeatedly until the silvery creature was out of sight, only to hear the howls of disappointed prisoners who wanted to see more magic, which confirmed it had been there.

"**Little shit! You killed our Lord!"**

"**Come closer, so I can put my hands around your throat and **_**wring it **_**like my neighbour's cat!"**

"_Ohhh, you're cute, aren't you? Ickle wee hero hiding behind the big bad auror and Fudgey's coat, poor little wee baby, you shouldn't have come here, where all the big bad wolves are,"_

The other residents were…_restless…_like when an auror was coming to do their monthly rounds, Sirius furrowed his brow – didn't they just do those earlier?

One prisoner was throwing themselves into the bars of their cell, Sirius could tell, just from the kind of noise it was making, but he couldn't see from his end, but the prisoner was licking said bar in an effort to be seductive, in a manner that showed he'd well and truly cracked.

"_You're smooth….not a hair on you I bet…."_

"_I bet you could keep me warm in here, couldn't you Green-Eyes?"_

Then, an angry, flustered noise cut through Sirius's thoughts.

"**Put your tongue back in your mouth, pervert else I'll have Auror Shacklebolt hex it out!"**

"_Gladly,"_ answered the silky, unamused tone of the vaguely familiar auror.

And then, shadows fell over Sirius's cell, making him squeeze his eyes shut on instinct, awaiting the misery tide that came with the presence of the dark creatures that guarded Azkaban, until he heard a metal creaking noise, and footsteps getting closer.

When he opened his eyes, there was another person in his cell, stooped down on one knee, staring at him, as though trying to assess if he was really there, and neither said anything for a moment, and for the on-looking Minister and Shacklebolt, it was rather intense, until finally…

"…It's time to come home, Padfoot."

The last word jolted the haggard man out of his daze, and he reached out two shaking arms, which could only make Fudge cringe a little, at how hard the exertion of such a small action seemed to make him quiver.

Harry, to everyone's surprise, and Sirius's especially, expecting only a helping hand up to his feet, instead, launched himself into the prisoner, wrapping his arms around his torso – legs and all, doing his best impression of a limpet as he hung there.

Whoever said Fudge was bereft of a heart didn't know the man, he had one, it was just small and relatively hidden, because right then, he rather wished he let a reporter come, if only for a picture of…_that. _

Warmth. Unfamiliarity. Smouldering green eyes.

He was slow to take in the other presence, he had narrow but not _too _narrowed features, like Lily's really, but his hair colour, his pallor – that was all James, right down to the wonky smile, but where James's had once been filled with mischief and a touch of sadism in his younger years was absent on the boy in front of him. It was an innocent sort of smile, the sort that made grandmother's coo and even the most tense of men want to relax, like a sweeping calming drought.

His hair was a bit longer than what Sirius remembered, but not by much, just to his chin really, falling in slightly fluffy downward spikes that only Potter hair could compromise on when grown out in an effort to fight its natural pigsty state. Those eyes – those eyes were Lily's for sure, but he was more than Lily's eyes in James's face, that smile was all Harry.

"Harry?" he managed in a scratchy tone, blinking as he felt the wind knocked out of his body and his torso coated in warmth as the small wizard wrapped his arms and legs around him, despite perhaps being too old for that sort of thing.

And in truth, Sirius didn't care, it had been so long since he'd had the presence of another human being and felt such a warmth that seeped through his ragged clothes right into his skin and his bones that he almost never wanted Harry to let go.

Looking over the boy's shoulders out to his open cell door, his dark eyes met with Minister Fudge's chubby face, and Auror Shacklebolt, both of whom were allowing the scene to play out before Shacklebolt cleared his throat.

"Healers are waiting at St Mungo's to assess you, but Mr Potter insisted on being present," he said, with a vague hint of amusement at the Boy-Who-Lived's limpet impression over Sirius Black, who looked like he was waking up out of a long coma, until his dirty nailed hands returned the younger boy's gesture stiffly.

"Auror Shacklebolt is going to get the stuff I sent you out of your cell and we're going to get you to the hospital now, there isn't much need for a full trial now Pettigrew's been apprehended and sentenced to the Kiss now they have his testimony, I wanted to tell you face to face," Sirius then felt the warmth leave a bit as Harry let go, only to plant his hands on his broad shoulders and give him that smile again, not caring for however horrendous Sirius smelt at that moment.

"So when they get there they're just going to take your memories from that night since you're expected to get on healing potions immediately, they don't want you under Veritaserum,"

At that point, Minister Fudge interrupted rather smoothly.

"This was so you'd avoid the impending media circus for a little longer, all Harry's idea of course, and Ms Bones agreed, the most important thing right now is that you recover from this ordeal," he smiled almost gleefully as one could in Azkaban "-I expect you'll be getting a formal apology from Mr Crouch and we can indict him,"

"I can go home…?" said Sirius softly, looking at them like he didn't believe them despite it all, and it hurt Harry to see that forlorn expression on his face, even Minister Fudge glanced away from it.

"Yes yes, after you've got the all clear from St Mungo's, Mr Potter's going to be with you the whole way up until he has to return to Hogwarts of course," said Mr Fudge with a degree of fondness, as though he and Harry were long term friends, which made the prisoner cock an eyebrow, but resist comment. His head was still clouded and he felt awful every time he moved.

"Mobilicorpus," intoned Shacklebolt boredly, making Sirius float off his feet, startling him.

"You don't have the energy for that Mr Black, allow me,"

With that, the three left the terrible island behind them, and boarded a dingy off of Azkaban.

* * *

Harry was sat on a white little chair, perched uncomfortably like an owl in a cage, watching the healers intently, trying to push away his discomfort of such a bright and entirely white place, and the smell of the damn healing salves – which were about as nice as the smell that came with muggle hospitals.

He watched them pump him with malnutrition potions, energy potions, cheering potions – and a few he couldn't recognise, and was told to leave until Sirius let out what could only be called a whimper mixed with a whine, until he was allowed to stay, like how a child might pine for their parent in the presence of adults or a scary situation.

"Have you had any thoughts towards self-harm while in Azkaban?"

That thought snapped Harry out of his daze, feeling the dark eyes set upon him again and the slightly less scratchy but very much tired voice sooth him.

"Not anymore,"

He watched them take his memories of the night Peter fled and framed him, and included a few of Peter learning the animagus transformation just for good measure, watching them come out in silvery wisps and held in potion's vials, Harry finally let out a long sigh.

"Harry come here," his voice was timid and almost unconfident, something he wasn't used to seeing from Sirius's mouth – not from the memories he had of him. Harry swallowed a bit, shuffling to his feet and stalking onto the bed, feeling himself get drawn in next to him, searching for that desperate warmth.

"Those healers are too touchy," he complained after a moment of silence, before adding something to break the sombre tension caused by his poor health.

"That mediwizard bloke tried to give me a spongebath," he grumbled.

"Well at least you let them scourgify you," said Harry with a small chuckle, a sound Sirius hadn't heard in twelve years that instantly filled the pit of his stomach with warmth.

"When do you have to go back to Hogwarts?" Sirius asked throatily, almost begging, which again – was slightly uncomfortable.

"The evening, Fudge had a portkey prepared for me so don't worry about it," said Harry, waving off his concern.

"But I don't want you to go," he said feebly, his feeble grip lacking any strength to squeeze Harry to keep him in place, though they had hours still, he raised a brow at the older man's behaviour, which was like that of a whining child, though understandable.

"….Why?" asked Harry, though he regretted it as Sirius's face fell, and his eyes watered.

"Because I'll wake up in Azkaban again," he said, in an uncharacteristically feeble, tiny tone, and instantly found himself drawn into someone much smaller than himself, with tinier hands at his back, rubbing circles repeatedly.

"No, no, no, no, no," Harry found himself saying, as how one might shush a child "-never again okay?"

"Never again, I promise," pointedly ignoring the man who stood in the archway, whose heart had plummeted into his feet at his broken friend.

Remus Lupin was quite at a loss for words at the sight.


	3. Forever & Always

Note: This story is meant to be a romance first and drama/everything else second, to fill the Sirry void in my heart. Anyways, onward!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER

* * *

**{Forever &amp; Always}**

He pointedly didn't address Remus, concentrating on the man who was beside himself with his release, rubbing circles soothingly into his back and letting his drop against the muss of tangled black hair. For the longest of time, Harry didn't say anything, glancing up to the werewolf and silently gesturing for a few more moments of privacy. It was reluctantly granted, and Harry found himself thinly aware of Sirius apologizing for his blubbering.

Harry merely gave a cluck of disproval from the back of his throat, eerily reminiscent of Madame Pomfrey, his thumbs finding their way to the other's haggard face, and wiping the tears that had come to stain his cheeks with a tenderness that many boys his age did not possess. They tended to be awkward piles of joints and muscles, James Potter certainly had been at that age, and as calloused as the boy's hands were – which were no stranger to hard work – they were tender even still, able to enact all of his unfailing kindness with the gentleness he had in mind, the same way Lily was always able to.

"Over ten years in Azkaban as an innocent man, I think you're more that allowed to blubber a bit," Harry offered him a grin, which Sirius wanted to return, but found himself unable, settling for a stiff nod in Harry's grip.

"You've got me looking after your interests you know, and nobody is going to let you go back to that place, over my dead body," he nosed Sirius's hair a bit, not at all bothered by the man's reluctance to let mediwizards wash him, he didn't seem to have a problem with letting a man much his senior, burrow his face in his chest like a child. A sadness blossomed in him, that Lily and James couldn't see how Harry had turned out, how gentle and caring he was, how he moved mountains for people he hadn't even met and yet met him with open arms – as though they really were as close as his one-sided letter sending made them out to be. It didn't feel as unnatural as perhaps it should, in fact, it felt like after years of neglect, even before Azkaban – where he was met with nothing but disdain and cruelty from his late mother and father, that finally, he was being treated the way he always wanted to be. The way that was right. It was like everything had been tilted on some horrible axis and Harry was singlehandedly putting it right, it didn't matter that it didn't make much sense, the comfort was entirely primal, and Sirius wasn't about to push it away.

He wondered, briefly, if this is what the wizarding world thought of Harry for so many years after that horrible night when Voldemort attacked Godric's Hollow. The world probably made fairy tales about him and books while time completely stopped for Sirius, but no, the world couldn't _possibly _have an idea of what it was like to be in the arms of Harry Potter. It was comforting, he had a thick mass of power beating under his skin that spoke volumes of who he was and who he would become, his arms, though not large and bulked with muscle as perhaps so many hero tales would like to embellish, were just right. Every part of him was soft, reminding him of a perfect bed of clouds, feathers and pillows, he smelled of whatever bubbly body wash he used because he gave off an unnoticeable scent of peach. Sirius could almost see why they'd call him something ridiculous like the Boy-Who-Lived, because right there, it felt like he was taking shelter in the younger person, and every word that rumbled from his throat sounded so assured, and not arrogantly so – the way James had, but like he'd stated simple irrefutable facts of life. The stability of it all was immensely soothing, along with the hands on his back that had moved to his face to so gently dispel him of his tears and not once did he feel insecure for doing it. The second he did, Harry had nipped it in the bud, and truthfully, in this moment, he could have believed them to be in the middle of the world folding in on itself and believe everything would be okay, and that Harry was the calm in the centre of a storm, unbroken, unmovable, unyielding.

If this is what the world could see when they saw him, it was no surprise he was the Boy-Who-Lived.

Or maybe they just projected their own ideal version of him, and Harry just happened to fit, that honestly seemed more likely, because Harry was never one to ask for fame, his letters made that abundantly clear. Definitely not like James.

Sirius almost whined when Harry pulled him out from his chest, but found it dying on his chapped lips and his brow furrow in confusion, unable to say anything when pitted against the piercing emerald stare so close to his own face.

"Oh," was all that managed to escape his dry throat when he felt something warm and not unwelcomed on his head, directly between his brows which had furrowed into a look of bewilderment, only to relax under his godson. He wasn't sure what he did to deserve this, but Harry had closed his lips and put them between his eyebrows on his head and kissed him. It might have been strange if they'd truly been related, but the dynamics of everything were screwed from top to bottom the moment Lily and James died, and from what Sirius understood, Harry raised himself, and in his post-prison state, was more than willing to allow Sirius feel and act little, as though he somehow knew it was exactly what he needed in that moment.

The action itself made warmth curl in his chest, he heaved a deep sigh when Harry stopped, and looked at him with his piercing yet tired stare.

"Remus wants to see you, I told you he was teaching DaDa at Hogwarts but I refrained on telling him about our letters until I showed him Pettigrew. I…I don't really know what led to such a communication breakdown _that night _– that messed everything up and sent you to prison…but I don't want you two to fight, okay?" at first, Harry wasn't sure if he understood, receiving no response, until Sirius's cracked tone broke the tenseness.

"Moony's here?" he said, his wide eyes filled with hope, so much hope that it almost killed Harry on the inside, he nodded and was tempted to act out affectionately again, knowing little of love, familial and otherwise, but decided against it, and merely smoothed down the mess of tangled hair before calling Remus in.

"Hello Padfoot," an old man with greys in his tawny hair stepped in, and they stared at each other for what seemed like an age, before Sirius croaked out something, which Harry was eternally thankful was not laced in resentment, but relief in finally seeing him.

"Merlin's balls, you're _old,"_

* * *

Remus looked on in curiosity at how deeply the relationship between the pair had set off, it was relieving in a way, that Sirius had somebody, and hadn't lost his mind entirely in Azkaban, even if he wasn't quite his boisterous self, after so many years in hell, who would be?

His sanity as it was, was nothing short of remarkable, and he commented as such, making Sirius look just the faintest bit proud of himself.

"No…" he whined softly, grabbing Harry by the wrist when he got up to give Remus and him some privacy.

Harry looked over at him and then at Remus, who was staring at them both calculatingly, before Harry turned and squeezed Sirius from the shoulders up in a standing-hug while he remained upright on his bed.

"I'll just pop out to get us some food, I've got enough hair to keep my scar covered, I'm sure you're dying for something that isn't stale bread and warm water. The staff are still drawing up your food schedule and dietary needs, until then I'm just going to say it's safe to assume I can spoil you," Harry said, watching the ex-convict's face light up and nod enthusiastically, and reluctantly let go of his wrist.

"I'll grab something for all of us since it's about dinner time now anyway, I'll get you a coffee on the way out Professor, I know how you take it," said Harry, waving them off to before getting out and heading out into Diagon Alley.

He couldn't quite fathom the depth and slew of feelings towards his godfather, but just seeing him for the first time, he was ready to give up everything including that stupid Tri-Wizard tournament and drop Hogwarts just to take care of him. Never, ever had he felt such a defensive urge, except maybe to Hedwig and his friends, but this ran several layers deep and three times as thick. The injustice of everything that all but destroyed the man was still potent in Harry's mind, and he wanted to have Barty Crouch hung up by his testicles and flogged in public in a Filch-esque manner to make up for the amount of suffering the poor man had been through.

"Hello, yes, I'll take three double patty burgers – oh but make one of them triple, all the trimmings, not too much salad, American cheddar, pepperjack and mozzarella—" he ignored the look the vendor gave him, gaping as he put each slice between each thin to medium sized patty. "Tomato sauce on that and some fried onions – right and a gerkin, that's about it, the other one can be a regular double cheeseburger and stick BBQ sauce in mine instead of tomato, right, thank you. Two chilled butterbeers to go, no fries and could you point me to the nearest pastry vendor? Thanks," Harry paid up and then headed to sate Remus's chocolate need by getting him a sharebox of chocolate doughnuts and headed back for the hospital, purposely taking his time and managing to find a hot coffee vendor to get Remus his preference. It was hard to juggle all that food, but being a skivvy for the Dursleys helped make it much easier. He bumbled into the hospital ward to find Remus with tears streaking his face and Sirius wearing the smallest of smiles.

"-and then the boggart was wearing women's clothes, the class saw Severus in a vulture's hat and a Sunday dress—"

He snorted as he caught the end of the story, and calmly placed the sharebox of doughnuts on the bed stand near Remus, who gave Harry a thankful look and blinked as he realized he really did get them _all _lunch, handing Remus a double cheeseburger.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, his stomach rumbling deeply, Harry turned to Sirius with a slow smirk before unveiling what could only be described as a triple decker burger of sheer diabetes and mouth-watering glory that made Remus's eyes go wide.

"I know you probably can't eat much without being sick so I didn't bother with fries or anything like that and decided just to triple yours up a bit," Harry chuckled, handing the burger to Sirius, who was glancing between Harry, Remus, the burger and their own food, which looked reasonably sized.

Sirius didn't even know how he'd be able to open his mouth wide enough to bite into it, and was rather thankful the _scourgify _charm had gotten the dirt out from his overly long nails, which were now digging into the tender sesame seed bun.

"Just…try, Sirius," was all Remus could say, shaking head at Harry's antics with some amusement.

And try he did, in fact, more than once, Remus had to spell the area clean, and Sirius dug into his food with near pornographic gusto, which was funnier as opposed to disgusting – like Ron's habits. Sirius was licking his fingers clean when Harry handed him a chilled butterbeer, watching his face light up like he heralded the sun as he took it.

"So, because the goblins didn't receive a trial verdict, your assets didn't get liquidated, or passed on, you're still head of the Black family as far as I'm aware and your properties will be back in your name and the Ministry will probably be paying you reparations," said Remus, sipping his coffee.

"Harry had his elf pop in to check on things, Kreacher's still around," he added, as Sirius scowled, swallowing the last of his burger, before turning quizzical.

"You have an elf?" he asked Harry, he knew he mentioned it in a letter but as Sirius couldn't reply, he could not ask about it at the time.

"I freed him from Lucius Malfoy, he works for Hogwarts now but prefers to stay free and by my side, he's a bloody strange elf as elves go, loves freedom but says if he ever had to be sworn to a wizard – he'd want it to be me," Harry shook his head.

"An elf wanting to be free? Bonkers," muttered Sirius "-but if it's freedom from Malfoys I don't blame it, you're gonna have to tell me the full story behind that one," he paused as Harry reached into his overgrown mass of untamed facial hair, not at all grossed out and practically doting when taking stray bits of food from it, offering him a wonky grin and making Remus chuckle.

"He's checked in on your old place, Grimmauld, apparently, Kreacher's let it fall into complete disrepair, I set Dobby to work on cleaning it but instructed him not to touch anything that he senses dark magic coming from, for his own safety, so how much of the place will actually be clean is anyone's guess," snorted Harry.

"I'm not looking forward to going back there," Sirius said, scowling, which made Remus wince a little and Harry look a bit downcast.

"The only property I own is Godric's Hollow and it's pretty wrecked, even if it wasn't, I don't think it'd be a much better option, considering," said Harry softly, making the air turn solemn.

"Grimmauld it is," grumbled Sirius, until Harry shuffled close to him on the bed, raising his feet off it and kicking his shoes to one side in order to cuddle up to his godfather, thinking nothing strange of it.

Harry just smiled at him benignly, as if to say everything will be alright.

"I'll have a way to get your mother's old portrait off there when I'm over, Dobby tells me she shrieks at him at every given opportunity and we can't have that, you won't get a moment's peace," Harry seemed so sure of himself, but Sirius shook his head – it was near impossible to get dear old mum off that wall, he remembered that much.

"Oh have a little faith," he said, grinning.

"I almost don't want to know, you have the scheming look in his eye James would get," mused Remus, chuckling over his coffee at the glint behind Harry's glasses as he thought of how to get Sirius's mum off the wall.

Then there was silence, where they merely ate, and basked in the each other's company, before Harry swallowed the last of his drink and pulled Remus in by the shoulders, and Sirius by his.

"Two things are going to happen," he said authoritatively, it was uncharacteristic of Harry, and Remus found himself raising a brow in surprise but not fighting the warmth in which he was pulled close.

"You, former DaDa teacher and bloody best one I've ever had, are going to help clear out Grimmauld place with Dobby of dark artefacts to make it habitable. I know it's a big job, so I'll probably ask Dumbledore if he can spare a few hands, considering I'm roped into this bloody Tri-Wizard tournament lark..." which was happening a year late, if memories of it were to be trusted, broken, fragmented ones that he didn't even possess in full. He could only assume Voldemort truly was biding his time, especially with Harry intervening and taking his most royal subject - Pettigrew - away from him.

"You," he turned to Sirius, they were so close he was practically nosing his cheek, his breathe rolling over the man.

"Are going to do your best to recover. I'm in my OWL year and in this bloody tournament to boot, I'll see if I can't wrangle some time off due to the sheer stress of it all and turn in some work early to prove it won't damage my shot at OWLs so I can look after you and help,"

"Harry you don't have to do that," said Remus with a little frown, the idea of him sacrificing his education did not sit well with the former teacher, but Harry merely waved him off.

"I have money to afford tutors if I need to take a year out and only go for that blasted tournament, and as most the school hates me and doesn't believe I was set up despite whatever I say, it might do me some good to get away. Muggle students have something called study leave, besides, Binns can't teach worth a damn and the day I make a good potion with Snape leering at me and insulting me between every breathe is the day Voldemort starts wearing frilly pink lace knickers," stated Harry boldly, and even Sirius had to turn a little green at that, the idea of the Dark Lord in frilly pink knickers was one he could certainly live without.

"I might even do better _away _from Hogwarts. It'll take me away from all this tournament stress and whoever entered my name in the cup to begin with, and any of my housemates trying to hurt me in my sleep for something I didn't bloody do," he then rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I'd love to have you," said Sirius, almost shyly, honestly he had no good memories of his ancestral home and it was apparently a complete sty and he didn't want to drive Harry away by what little he had to offer - a pigsty death trap dark house, but Harry merely brightened, as though Sirius offered him the world.

"Right, I'll have a word with Fudge either way, OWLs are overseen by officials vetted by the Ministry anyway, if Hogwarts doesn't wise the hell up I can just sit them privately. I mean, I'd miss Ron and Hermione, but they can't keep up or leave well enough alone when I want them to, hell they spend most the time arguing and Ron's turned into a right royal prat and believes the same horse dung the school does - and _he's _supposed to be my best friend. I have no one," he was well aware he was ranting, and blinked as he felt a firm hand in his hair, gently ruffling it.

"You have us," said Remus after a moment, messing Harry's up "-I can go with you to Albus if you like, he probably wouldn't be fond of you being out of his eye for a while but he could probably help oversee a casting of the Fidelius charm over Grimmauld and help make it unplottable from the public,"

"You don't have to, I'd prefer it if you stayed with Sirius, I can handle him - I think, besides, the amount of codswallop I go through at Hogwarts right under his sodding nose should put him in enough debt to me that he at least hears me out," Harry rubbed his temples a bit, looking far older than sixteen in that moment, before childishly nuzzling up against Sirius's shoulder, to which the man gave a serene barely-present half-smile.

"In the mean time I'm going to ask that Remus, here, take this," he rooted around his pockets a bit and handed him a Gringotts key.

"This is a spare key I had made, I've asked the accounting goblin for my trust vault that he be aware of your presence and list of allowed handlers of my vault. I won't have access to the family vault for another year and I want you to keep your finances for yourself but I want you to look for a private brewer or Potion's Master willing to brew your Wolfsbane if the coin is good enough. I wont have you grovelling to Snape or doing without," he said resolutely.

"Harry I can't take this," Remus's throat had gone a bit dry as the key was thrust in his hand.

"Well tough, I didn't spent twenty minutes debating with a goblin over the security of multiple keys for you _not _to take it," said Harry crisply, refusing to take no for an answer.

"At least until we sort out Ministry reparations and everything else. I know you don't like to feel like a mooch and honestly you wouldn't be. I consider you family, room and general board, food, Wolfsbane, I don't want you to have to worry about that any more,"

Remus couldn't quite keep his eyes from going glassy.

"I don't know what to say," was all he could manage as Sirius just looked rather proud of Harry.

"Don't say anything, just say you want to be apart of this, apart of us," Harry added, squeezing his one armed grip around the thin ex-convict.

Remus looked at the two, but his eyes held on Harry, he was met with a hardened emerald stare that was disconcerting in how much knowledge they held, it made the wolf in him a little dwarfed, oddly uncomfortable, but there was something else. Whenever he looked over at Sirius there was waves and waves of unending, unyielding, tidal waves of love, affection, everything that Sirius needed and deserved but in such abundance that it was hard not to comment on it when he was blatantly aware that Sirius didn't currently have the full presence of mind to register the kind of relationship he could have with Harry.

He was still figuring out how to react to that, it was strange to see.

"Of course," he said firmly "-I don't want to lose you again Padfoot, and Harry - I couldn't possibly leave you behind,"

Harry gave him a crooked smile.

"I should plant myself in Dumbledore's office then, I don't think he'll be ecstatic over this,"

His heart burned at Sirius's face falling when he had to finally leave.

* * *

"I could certainly recommend you tutors my boy, it might do well for you to get away from this animosity towards you, especially if someone at the school put your name in the cup, though your presence leaving will certainly cause some discord and anger whoever put your name in there I suspect, it'll make it harder to keep an eye on you," mused Dumbledore, stroking his beard as he leaned back in his chair.

Harry's idea was unexpected but certainly warranted some thought - it had merit.

"You're aware of how this would be perceived, correct? You are already a pariah,"

"With all do respect they can get stuffed, Sirius is more important," he said it with such passion that Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, he looked at that expression, and felt something in his chest constrict at the burning stare.

"It will look like you're running away," said Dumbledore gravely.

"The school wants me flayed because they think I had something to do with this! See it as a safety measure, how can I have any hope of achieving a single above acceptable OWL with all this going on?" he said, stressed until Dumbledore raised a hand to calm him.

"I quite agree,"

Wait, huh?

"I will consent to overseeing the Fidelius charm over the residence, furthermore, I will consent to you taking this year out and coming back only to participate in the Tri-Wizard Cup as a matter of safety and the magically binding contract, nowhere does it mandate you stay in school for the duration. I will send some tutors your way once the charm is complete and you've settled," he brushed his beard a bit more "-I will spin it as a matter of personal safety on the Boy-Who-Lived," his eyes twinkled "-I've already publicly taken the stance that I do not believe your name was put in the cup with your consent, knowledge and intent, it can be easily seen as trying to alienate you from the perpetrator and I can do just that. I believe I know where to start," he added.

"Why...no offence sir, but I expected this to be more of a fight, why are you agreeing so easily?" Harry asked bluntly, baffled.

"You love him, don't you?" Harry looked confused at Dumbledore's statement, before nodding.

"He's my Godfather, of course I do..." he said, trailing off, nervous under the man's scrutiny, to which Dumbledore merely gave him a knowing and toothy sort of smile he rarely gave.

"I always said it would be love..." he mused under his breathe.


	4. Family

_Harry/Sirius slash. More of a healing fic than a "defeat the Dark Lord" fic, if anything, that's just an aside, please review on that basis. Possible future MPreg so you were warned. I'm thinking of going up the age-old marriage contract route simply because I've never wrote it before, or would you guys prefer to see pureblood courting? Or just keep it a healing-romance? I've never wrote pureblood courting **properly **before so it could be fun but...well, whatever, I listen to input!_

_Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER_

* * *

**{Family}**

He was nervous, really nervous – Remus could tell, the way his body twitched, the way he kept glancing between the lobby and the fireplace, waiting for Harry. Maybe he'd been accosted, maybe Dumbledore changed his mind, maybe Harry didn't want to spend time with his loony decrepit ex-con godfather and his werewolf buddy, maybe-

"Remus? Sirius? I'm here," there was a loud sound after a few bumpy sounds from the front of the house, interrupting Sirius's thought stream. Remus flinched as Sirius got up with such startling speed he should not have been capable of it, and bounded like an overly excited puppy towards the lobby, wrapping his thin arms around his godson.

It took Harry a moment to register it, and felt warmth surrounding him – Sirius was hugging him, and quickly it was returned, before the man started to second guess his actions. Sirius squeezed as hard as he could but unfortunately that didn't amount to much, and when Harry realized that, a part of him felt sad. First time around, he obviously hadn't been there when Sirius had to break out of Azkaban, and in the memories – he only saw the haggard ex-con when he was ready enough to hold a wand and withstand combat enough to hunt down Peter Pettigrew. He'd never seen Sirius fresh out of that prison, and now he had, and it was obvious that the damage was there.

There was some pain in his movements but he somehow had the strength to hide much of it, for Harry's sake, and Harry wished that he wouldn't do that. He wanted Sirius to be himself around him, and not to be ashamed of the state the prison left him in.

Unfortunately that was hard, even in fine clothes, they hung off his frame much like how Dudley's castoffs hung off of Harry, though it was worse, as they were tailored for Sirius's once-fit body and only served to emphasize what had becoming of his receding waistline in context with his broad Black shoulders.

"This place looks…really clean," Harry said after a moment, it was probably clear of things like dust bunnies and kneazles and such but a lot of the dark objects and horrible furniture were present, casting the house interior in a gloomy light. He was thankful that the curtains were drawn over Lady Walburga Black, but could hear her hissing insults from beneath the velvet – he had plans for her, but those could wait.

"Dobby did a good job, afraid Kreacher hasn't done much but sit on his bum blathering to a portrait of my mad old mum," Sirius said with a scowl. "Sorry about the décor," he added when Harry grimaced at the sight of mounted house elf heads on the wall.

"Don't worry about it – I'm just glad to be here, why don't you show me around?" Harry slid his hand into Sirius's easily and let the older man lead him around the large townhouse-turned-home, letting the man accept the behaviour as fine – just to make things more comfortable. It gave him safe things to talk about to, gesturing to rooms with his rarely used voice which was much less hoarse than he'd last heard, touring him around the place.

"You can pick any room, this one is mine and that one is Remus's," said Sirius, gesturing to the doors which were rather apart, because Sirius had taken the Master Bedroom that used to belong to his parents. Out of spite, in Harry's memories, it had been Buckbeak's room, but now Sirius was taking his rightful place.

Harry ended up taking Regulus's old room and wisely he did not comment on the look that briefly flashed through Sirius's features, Kreacher however, let his feelings be known, hissing through his teeth.

"Filthy half-blood sleeping in good Master Regulus's room…" he grunted, Sirius had half a mind to hex him, but Harry waved it off with ease.

"Don't worry about the ravings of a mad elf," he said, loudly enough for Kreacher to hear "-if he really cared about the wishes of his former masters he wouldn't have let the house fall under disrepair just because you were in prison,"

Sirius glanced to Kreacher's retreating form and noticed he'd stopped, no doubt listening to Harry giving him a snide insult, the kind that was designed to pierce any self-respecting house elf.

"I've only met one other Black mind you – Phineas, headmaster's office, I know _he _wouldn't have stood for it, no reason why you should. He gave me the impression your lot had _pride _and_ grandiose, _but it takes _my elf _to come and clean this place? Tch. Makes me think we should just….get rid, if he's going to be so useless, and enstate Dobby as the new Black elf,"

Sirius was a bit floored, wondering where all this was coming from, as was Remus – who could hear the complaining from the kitchen as he was laying out the cutlery, until his mind registered that he was teasing Kreacher.

"_**Shut up disgusting muddy half-breed! I am the only Black elf! Kreacher has served the Ancient and Noble House of Black for years! Kreacher is best elf!" **_he turned around, practically screaming in all of his tiny fury at Harry, who had an eyebrow cocked in amusement, as much as he _hated _the little bastard in his memories, this Kreacher had yet to commit future-Kreacher's crime.

"Really? You certainly don't behave like it," his eyes narrowed "-you know Kreacher, I lived with muggles, the worst kind of muggles, and they worked me to the bone. Scrubbing floors, scrubbing walls, heck, you know I've even scrubbed a ceiling? Painting fences, cooking and serving for three people – two of each who ate like land-whales, and all of it before three o'clock _with no magic_,"

Sirius felt an anger stirring in him, the kind of fury that awoke briefly in Azkaban but was too enraptured by the odd dialogue between his demented house-elf and strange godson to intervene.

"_And you _can't even maintain a house when there no living residents in it," he did his best sneer, but it didn't feel right on his face, it wasn't something he did often. "So until you act like the _best elf _I will have Dobby acting in your stead and you can retire," said Harry with a little sniff.

"I'm fine with it, Harry is right, you haven't acted as a good elf, and if you call him any nasty names again, you'll never serve this house again, you listen to the orders of the residents of this house," said Sirius, finding his voice "-the same goes for Remus, I will not tolerate any more jibes," he didn't seem particularly threatening but one look in the frail man's eyes told Kreacher that he was serious.

"Kreacher can be a good elf! Kreacher is a good elf!" he hissed "-Kreacher will not be replaced by the mad freedom lover!"

"No, but you'll work with him," said Harry after a moment "-if you're serious about being a good elf,"

Kreacher gave him his most hateful glare before nodding jerkily.

"Like it or not, Sirius is the last living full Black and you would do well to remember that as you serve him," said Harry, folding his arms over his chest to stare down at the misshapen little creature.

"Kreacher will," he huffed, still despising the idea.

"Good, now get Harry's trunk from the lobby and leave it in Regulus's old room," Sirius snapped, letting the elf disappear with a _pop._

His godfather rounded on him after that, giving Harry an inscrutable look, which made the younger boy feel like a bug under a microscope. He didn't say anything for a long moment, before opening the door to Regulus's old room and gesturing him to go in, where the trunk had appeared in the brief time period between snapping at Kreacher and analysing his strange godson.

"You're trying to manipulate Kreacher into being a good elf?"

"Eh, I'd rather have him working with us instead of against us," said Harry with a shrug.

He watched as pain graced Sirius's movements through the house tour and did his best not to clip himself to his side like a crutch, the man had pride, he was great and handsome once – and would be again, but highlighting his weakness was probably not best. Looking at him awakened an urge inside of him – to nurse him back to what he _should _look like, like a bird with damaged wings. It would be long and arduous, difficult, challenging – it might take months, maybe even years – before he could lessen the haunted look in his eyes.

Looking at him, it would probably not go away. Not fully. Not ever.

Not for the first time, Harry wished he could shut down Azkaban.

"Have you eaten?" Harry asked gently, not even bothering to unpack, looking up at his haggard godfather as the man shook his head.

"The house isn't really stocked with much, Remus has been getting home-made food to go most of the time," admitted Sirius - the werewolf point blank refused to ignore Sirius's diet sheet and regularly made trips to cafés that let you take meals to-go and would get it from there, namely because the fridge appeared to have something living in it that he didn't know how to dispel without ruining the fridge.

"That's not sustainable," said Harry, frowning a bit, then again - the full moon would be soon, Remus was probably a bag of worries trying to sort out a Wolfsbane leader, Sirius _and _Harry who was now a Tri-Wizard champion.

"There's something living in the fridge, Moony can't get rid of it without ruining the fridge completely," replied Sirius.

Harry sighed, somewhere, a deeply broody feeling arose in him along with a tremendous urge to help, he supposed it came from his _saving people thing _mingled with his care and love for his penfriend and godfather. His memories hurt too - his thirteen year old self had never connected the level of pain Sirius was going through and the man had hid much of it, but as a sixteen year old with memories of a man far older, it was not easily brushed aside. The problem too, before, was that there simply wasn't enough time with the man.

_Now there is time._

He would never make the mistake of not spending enough time with Sirius Black ever again.

"I'm going to head out and get us some dinner, what're you having Harry?" asked Remus when the pair finally emerged, noticing how Harry's eyes didn't leave his godfather's form, not even when he was directly addressed, worry all over the younger's face.

"Just grab me some mincebeef and chips," he said with a small shrug. Remus nodded, and didn't even ask what Sirius wanted, consulting a sheet pinned to the fridge before heading out.

"Dumbledore will be here in a few hours to Fidelius the house," said Harry after a moment, when Sirius and himself were left in awkward silence "-he agreed to be the Keeper,"

A sigh of relief escaped Sirius - it was one less thing to worry about.

"That's a relief, I hope Moony comes back soon, I'm starved," he said dramatically, but Harry winced - because he certainly looked starved, and Merlin knew he actually was in the damned prison. Sirius caught the look and the humour fell flat as a terse silence fell over the long white table in the kitchen.

"You'll get better," offered Harry quietly, while Sirius just nodded, before glancing away.

"What was that you mentioned to Kreacher anyway? Did those awful muggles really make you their house-elf?" he said, desperate to change the subject - Harry frowned at the hamhanded attempt but nodded.

"House-elf, punching bag, general scapegoat," said Harry shortly, watching as Sirius's dark eyes lit with a fury again, fury that didn't belong in his face - which should have been wrought with smiles and merriment.

"If I hadn't have gone chasing after Peter, that never would have happened," he said sullenly, as though he had his own personal rain cloud. Azkaban was probably responsible for much of his thought processes, and Harry wasn't about to let it stand.

"And if I wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, Voldemort would have a body," said Harry darkly "-it's not about ifs and buts Sirius, it's about changes. I don't know what I'd have done in your place. You thought Remus was the traitor first only to find it was Pettigrew, you lost my mum and my dad in one night, essentially everything, and went on the war path. I can fault you for it, but I know I might have done the same if it were Ron that did that to me. I don't hate you for it, so please don't hate yourself," Harry pleaded softly.

"I won't ever forget you again," said Sirius, looking over at him with regret in his face "Never forgive me if I do, you deserve the best Harry,"

"You're a man of your word," Harry offered him a small smile "-and the only one who can give me 'the best'. All I ever wanted was a family, now I've got it. I'm happy to be here,"

"Really? In this...place?" he gestured wildly to the dark decor and overall gloom and disrepair of the place and blinked when Harry chuckled at him.

"Sirius we could live in a damn shoe and I'd still be chuffed because I'd be with my godfather," he said warmly, giving him a look that made his heart and stomach meet with a tingling warmth and hesitant happiness, his body still wary of letting it happen, even now, lest the warm feeling be ripped from his bones.

"We'll make this a nice place," Harry said after a moment "-I think I'd like to have family meals here, you know?" his eyes raked over the long table they were sat at, even with Remus, it would feel too grandiose and empty. Harry stopped when he thought he sounded childish and snuck a look at Sirius's face, he didn't want to sound like some prattling kid, but found a wistful look in his eyes, and found that he wasn't alone in the thought.

"It'd be nice, wouldn't it?" Sirius said softly, gazing out at nothing, the two fell in companionable silence, until Moony arrived.

* * *

Sirius was thankful when he didn't have to say anything, not that he was a wallflower or anything, but after so many years in hell, he was far from his usually exuberant self, and was concentrating fully on the sausages, mash potatoes and beans. Remus and Harry filled the cavernous kitchen easily enough with their noise and chatter, he found he only had to make the appropriate noise here and there on his end, while he concentrated on his motor functions.

Out of the corner of Harry's eyes, he was watching his godfather, observing as his left hand had an imperceptible tremor and his right was pale from he tightness in which he held his fork. The food was soft enough that it didn't need harsh cutting, but he struggled with his sausages, when the knife clattered from his hand to the floor, Sirius felt his face heating up, about to bend down to get it.

Harry leaned to the left and moved his knife and fork to Sirius's plate, and began easily cutting up the sausages, making the embarrassment melt to a moody anger.

"I'm not a child! You don't have to cut my food for me!" Sirius snapped - Harry's kindness met with undue anger. Remus had gotten used to Sirius's adapting moods quickly, Azkaban had turned them into rather unstable things that he'd been informed from a mind healer would change the more Sirius had normal interaction, but the hurt on Harry's face was there, before it quickly left.

"The nutrient potions are designed to make changes to your muscles too, so a little shakiness is to be expected, no need to bite my head off, I didn't see 'mood swings' listed under side-effects," Harry snarked back. Remus watched in fascination as Sirius's anger almost instantly melted as he rose to get a new knife, and put the old one in the sink.

"Sorry Harry," Sirius mumbled, face inflamed - he was rather embarrassed about his state of weakness and it was a sensitive point, he thought Harry was rudely pointing it out until he brushed it off as a side-effect of his potions. Remus realized he'd done that too, and was surprised by the tact shown, because he didn't want to diminish Sirius's self-esteem.

"I'm just a mess," he sighed into sausages and ate them slowly.

"You were in Azkaban for longer than anyone should be," murmured Remus "-I think you're excused," the mere mention of the prison had Sirius's face darken again, and Harry almost wanted to kick the werewolf under the table for it.

"You'll be fine," said Harry tartly "Remus, I mentioned while you were gone - Professor Dumbledore will be over to Fidelius the house in a bit - he's offered to be Keeper,"

The change of subject was abrupt that Remus felt as though he was being rebuked by it, as if to say _change the record you idiot, talk about something else._

"That's a relief," said the werewolf, mirroring Sirius's words "-I found a Wolfsbane brewer too,"

Just like that, the relaxed atmosphere returned.

"Well, that's well and good but did you find a new fridge? Sirius informs me we have something living in ours,"

"Erm, it might have slipped my mind," Remus confessed. Harry finished his food rather quickly and went to the fridge, opening it slowly and peering into the darkness which slowly lit to reveal what could only be described as a purple blob with large red eyes, the only thing in there was out of date butterbeer.

It blinked both of them at Harry.

Harry blinked back.

"Could you pass me the Butterbeer case please?" the absurdity of it only really struck him when the fridge creature's gloopy gelatinous arm coiled around the Buttebeer case and formed an almost tentacle-like appendage, serving it to Harry before slamming the fridge door shut from the inside.

There was silence as Harry tipped out the bad fluid, cleaning what little was in that fridge besides the strange living organism.

"You know, as far as fridge monsters go, it's not that bad," mused Harry aloud. "-We should just get a new fridge, that one appears to be 'home' to it,"

Sirius, unfortunately, had leftovers, and Remus chided him to eat it, until a pained noise left the haggard man and the werewolf relented, realizing that he'd be sick if he tried to eat anymore. Harry took the plates, ready to empty the scraps into the bin until he stopped, and turned to the fridge, before slowly opening it on the moody monster.

"Do you, per chance, take leftovers?" his response was the gloopy appendage returning, and plates being yanked from his hand. A strange noise not three seconds later, shook the cavernous kitchen, as several licked-clean plates burst from the fridge and shattered on the floor, the fridge-door having slammed shut.

"Don't feed it!" scolded Remus, repairing and floating the plates back to the sink.

"Eh, we have a free bin-beast,"

Sirius gave a slow smile at his godson, obviously finding it funny but struggling to find the will to laugh.

"I vote we name the Fridge Beast after Ron - you've seen how he eats in the Great Hall when you were our teacher," sniggered Harry.

"Don't make me upchuck," chuckled Remus, watching as Sirius's shoulders trembled a little with quiet laughter. Harry turned to him and saw the smile transfixed on his face, but Sirius struggling with much of his muscles, which occasionally locked up, now was one of those times, as it denied him laughter and a little drool escaped the side of his mouth. Self disgust was in his eyes in an instant as his shoulders stopped trembling and he moved to wipe his lips once his shaking hand stopped, only to find something soft pressing against his mouth and chin.

It was Harry, armed with a tissue, cleaning him like how a parent might dote on a mannerless child.

"Sorry Harry," said Sirius, face inflamed yet again.

"Stop that, you stop apologizing for everything Azkaban has done to you, I won't have it and neither will Remus," said Harry with a frown, wiping at his godfather's face until he was satisfied. Sirius was jarred by just how much Harry felt he could do to him, with apparent ease, and didn't even think twice about it, what was stranger - was that it just felt right, well, perhaps not right, but _acceptable, normal _and _not weird. _Which was strange really, because he was sure even with an Azkaban-addled mind that it was probably weird, and glanced to Moony for some sort of confirmation of it, but the werewolf just seemed rather enthralled but otherwise not weirded out.

"Nobody expects you to just be _fine _straight away. Rome wasn't built in a day, Sirius," said Remus gently, watching in prolonged fascination at Harry wiping his friend - he may resemble James, but he was all Lily, that boy was - really.

"I know, I just hate it," Sirius croaked, and honestly, from the petulantness, Remus almost expected a pout.

Harry hated it too, he wanted Sirius to be the healthy, prideful, majestic man that he knew that he could be.

"_Kreacher! _Could you please wash up and put the dishes away? Thank you," shocked the the politeness, the demented little house-elf stared at Harry after popping in, as though stumped by his words, before plodding towards the sink. Kreacher hadn't heard the words _please _and _thank you _in so long that it was strange to his large, flappy ears, but nonetheless did as he was told.

Remus expected him to mutter about waiting on half-breeds, and was pleasantly surprised when met with utter silence.

"I think I need to sleep, heavy meals always made me sleepy," murmured Sirius, while Remus nodded and Harry grinned up at them both - Sirius looked like he could do with uninterrupted sleep, and lots of it.

"Okay, and when you wake up, this place will be one step better to looking homely," said Harry seriously, Sirius managed a watery grin and plodded up to the Master Bedroom with his godson in tow, who was even seeing him off to sleep.

Agitating as it might be to need so much help, it was a little bit cute, Sirius had to confess, to have Harry worrying about him so much.

"You're such a little housewife," Sirius let out a throaty noise, which Harry realised was probably supposed to be a laugh.

"I'm just getting started," he winked at Sirius "-we'll take care of Dumbledore when he's here, you can sleep through it. Remus will be the binder anyways," said Harry as the Black Lord nodded.

"-Do you regret coming to stay here even a little?" asked Sirius after a moment "I know I'm not...the most cheerful to be around,"

"I don't regret it - not even slightly, besides," Harry's lips quirked a bit "-you know girls dig the whole 'dark, brooding, no smile sexy bloke' thing, you've got the whole 'tragically misunderstood' thing going for you too, so don't mind the lack of cheer,"

Sirius scoffed but smiled.

"I'm a decrepit old ex-convict, _nobody _digs that," he sniffed a bit, and though only humour was in his tone, the words were not at all self-serving, and Harry felt like he should say something - anything - to negate it, and let the words spill out without a filter, which came directly from his older self's memories after far, far, _far _too much Firewhiskey.

"Ah shuddup you old geezer I'd still wreck you like a Ford Anglia," with that, he left an open-mouthed godfather in his wake, especially when his mind caught on to what exactly _wrecked _meant in this context, his mind still a bit slow on the draw and fuzzy from prison, he wasn't his sharpest, but by the time he'd actually figured it out when rereading Harry's old letters about his..._adventures_, it was far too late to blush about it, and he'd simply snorted into his pillow before falling asleep.

His godson was indeed, a very strange lad.


End file.
